Darkness Descending: Story of Triss Nighthunter
by Rocko Wallaby
Summary: Death before dishonour? Since when is death such a kind mistress? After the Marauders slaughtered first his family, and then his world, Triss Nighthunter, last remaining survivor of the Krynn, planned on finding out.
1. Chapter 1: Blood in the Gutters

**With darkness descending: The story of Triss Nighthunter.  
A furry fiction by Rocko Wallaby**

**DISCLAIMER:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Blood in the gutters.**

Triss sighed, as he leant back in the darkness for a moments rest. He'd always assumed the whole "life flashing before your eyes" thing was a load of bullshit. I mean, you hear of it in vid's and holo's, but to actually feel the life draining from your veins?

Poetic license gone stupid there, somewhere.

But as he sat there in the dark; in this stinking, filthy alley, with blood seeping from his shoulder wound and down his arm to pool on the concrete beneath his fingertips; he had to smile grimly at his predicament.

Why did it always end with blood?

Plus, it was raining again. He hated the rain. Not to mention the cold.  
He'd always hoped that if he was to bleed to death in some dank, festering alley in the arse end of nowhere, he'd be warm at the time!  
Or, more preferrably, not dead at all.

His mind was wandering again. Not a good sign.  
Damn feral, shithole planet.  
Backwater to nowhere.  
Deserves a good nuking.

He got to his feet cautiously, the bricks at his back pressing coarsely through the thin fabric of his shirt. Looking up into the soaking rain, he could barely make out the boarded up windows of the buildings, which stared vacantly over the streets below. Water from the rusted guttering far above continued to trickle down his neck and arms, mixing with his blood to form dark tracks through the muddy concrete at his feet. The nearby dumpster stank of the detritus of its users; the filthy waste of a filthy city. He hated cities in the fringe worlds. Nothing but scum, sewerage, and the offal of civilization.

Shifting the pistol to his right hand, he pressing the button on the side of the grip, checking the level of charge remaining. The dull red display shone briefly, dimly illuminating his face in the surrounding darkness.

Shit. Only 5 rounds left.

That wouldn't put a dent in them, when they caught up to him.

Oh well. It was inevitable they would. Chaos had always followed him, and eventually was bound to embrace him.  
Besides, he wasn't afraid of death.  
Especially his own.

Checkingthe aurrounding area carefully, nothing caught his attention. Only the sound of the dripping rain broke the noises of the night. This batch of marauders was clearly more skilled than most; a testimony to his current predicament, and copious blood loss.

He began carefully inching through the darkness and filth towards the alley entrance, keeping close to the building walls and stepping lightly to avoid splashing the tainted water pooling at his feet. Where were they? The prickling skin on his neck gave warning they were close; far, far too close; but he could see nothing moving in the dark streets ahead.

Suddenly, a muffled noise broke the silence; a rasping cough, quickly suppressed. They were here, then. Well within range. Scanning the darkened street carefully, he peered into a small area of parkland that encroached on the urban jungle opposite his position. A slight movement from within the trees drew his attention. There!

After a few moments, a dark shape detached itself from the protection of the overhanging foliage, and moved forward to scan the streets before it. Eyes like fiery gems peered out from the confines of its hooded robe, taking in everything. Clawed hands clutched a pulse rifle to its chest as it hunted through the darkness for any signs of movement: of him! Pressing back into the darkness against the wall, Triss felt his heart beat erratically, hoping his blood was sufficiently diluted by the evening rain to mask his scent from the hunters, while he took a moment to look for the others.

There were always others. Marauders never hunted alone.

To the left, two more shadows detached themselves from the surrounding buildings and converged on the first.

Three of them, then.  
Shit!

Bad enough one, but with an arm shredded and useless, and half his lifeblood spilled onto the street, it was as hopeless as he'd feared.  
Guess they really wanted him dead this time. It was almost worth it to being taken seriously, for a change.

Triss considered his options. With the limited munitions remaining at his disposal, he had little chance of destroying all three. Marauders were fast; way faster than most assassins. He might have had a chance of putting down one, or possibly two, had he been in reasonable condition, but with the wound and the cold sapping his strength, taking out all three was unlikely. Regardless, no alternative presented itself; he had to attempt killing all three in his initial attack, as he had no further strength for a prolonged standoff. Tensing in readiness, using the grimy wall as support, he silently raised the pistol into position, taking a bead on the closest of the hunters.

Without warning, a com chime shattered the silence. Triss froze, as did the marauders. After a moment, the first reached into its robes, pulling out a small com unit which it flipped open, and brought to its ear. Harsh, guttural voices speaking corrupted universal broke the silence, growing in both volume and intensity as the conversation continued. The marauder, obviously unhappy with the way the discussion was heading, ended it with a harsh grunt, before thrusting the unit back into its robes with a clawed hand. Turning to its companions, they conversed briefly in hushed tones, before all three faded back into the parks protective cover and vanished from sight.

One final rustle of branches, and they were gone. Only the relentless hissing of the rain striking the pavement broke the silence.

Triss waited, muscles tensing for the attack that he feared might still come. Blood continued to seep wetly down his sleeve, forming a slippery mess on the guns grip. He tightened his fingers expectantly, waiting for them to return for him.

Nothing broke the silence of the night.  
They were gone.

Heaving an exhausted sigh, he rested his gun on the dumpster lid, and reached across his chest to tear the left sleeve off his shirt, wrapping it roughly around the long, jagged wound on his left arm. While it wouldn't hold for long, he prayed it would buy him enough time to make it back to the cache, where he could treat the injury properly. After a few minutes, the bleeding slowed enough for him to slip another length of fabric over his head in a makeshift sling.

After one last searching look down the deserted streets, he retrieved his pistol, returning it to its holster, before melting back into the darkened alley towards safety.

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 2: Beginnings.**


	2. Chapter 2: Beginnings

**With darkness descending: The story of Triss Nighthunter.  
A furry fiction by Rocko Wallaby**

**DISCLAIMER:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Beginnings.**

He wasn't always like that.  
Once, he had a family, and a life.  
Once he had a world.

It was a beautiful world, teeming with life and boundless possibility. Times were good, and life was good. He was happy then.  
But it was so hard to remember that now.  
Especially after They came, and took it all away.

By the time he made it back to the cache, he was all but unconscious. It was only sheer will that allowed him to drag himself to the medical bay. The caches were well hidden, designed to blend into the background architecture of whatever world on which they were located. In this case, on this "Earth", as the inhabitants so quaintly called it, they had decided to locate it within a major city on the continent of "Australia". Disguising such a complex was difficult, although not impossible. The cache were compact marvels of technology, incorporating living, medical and scientific research facilities into one small prefabricated building, that can be transported and installed in minimal time. More complex was masking of the various individuals of the force themselves, as in a world of naked pink skinned natives, heavy fur tended to be less than subtle. It had become mandatory on most pre-contact worlds for the land-based officers to use cloaking units to hide their appearance from the locals. When Triss' unit was damaged during the fight, he not only had to contend with his wounds, but also avoiding the curious stares of the people he encountered.

Most just shrugged off his "bizarre" appearance as yet another weird lifestyle choice one encountered in the city. Others showed more curiosity, and occasionally came uncomfortably near for a closer look. A growling scowl, and flash of sharp canines, generally dissuaded all but the most persistent. Those that didn't take the hint were shown more physical deterrents, although in his present state, it was more bark than bite. Thankfully, by keeping to the back alleys and darkened paths, he had managed to avoid any real incident.

With the last of his strength, he dragged himself onto the med units padded couch, which promptly began a full analysis of his injuries. Within moments, the unit inserted a long, thin needle into the vein in his inner right arm, near his elbow, releasing a cocktail of painkillers and antibiotic, along with general anaesthetics. It didn't take lng for the drugs to commence their work. His vision clouded, and the dull aching across his body was numbed to a minor discomfort. However, with the relief from pain, his exhaustion overwhelmed him and he dropped swiftly into sleep, even before the medical unit dropped further instruments to tend his wounds.

It was the incessant chiming of the com system that finally woke him from his drug-induced sleep. Dragging himself from the sheets the med unit had cocooned him within, he fumbled for the speaker button, noting absently that the long wound in his arm had been sutured neatly, and had already began to heal. "Another scar to add to his collection", he thought groggily to himself, before finally finding the button he had been searching for.

"Triss!" barked the com unit, causing him to momentarily wince as the loud voice echoed through the med lab, before he thumbed the volume down to something more manageable. "What the fuck happened down there!"

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks for asking!" he mumbled in irritation, before shaking himself further awake and sitting up on the edge of the bed, feet dangling to hang above the floor.

"You're not dead yet, so stop bitching" came the reply, before he winced further, realising that his comments had reached the other party.

"The bastards knew we were coming", Triss replied, once he had gathered his thoughts sufficiently. "While I managed to reach the target, the whole place went to hell and back once he was dead. It was only by a stroke of fortune I made it out of the complex in once piece!"

He gave his arm a cringing glance, noting the shaved fur crisscrossing still older scars. "Well, almost one piece"

The voice on the other end paused for a moment, before responding in a more conciliatory manner "Unfortunate, but not unexpected. There were concerns that the mission had been compromised before you were sent, Agent Triss. You knew the risks as well as we did. At least the target was neutralised, and the locals weren't involved. Having the pink skins swarming over the place would have been even more unfortunate. Take your time recovering, provided you're back on your feet within 48 hours. We'll be waiting with your next assignment then"

The unit disconnected, leaving Triss to slump on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands.

"Fucking awesome", he muttered in irritation, before resting back and starting at the ceiling. He knew he had to file his report before too long, but gave the com unit the finger, before shutting his eyes and returning to catch up on the sleep he so desperately needed.

His dreams were the same as they always were; of fire, death and destruction.

Waking up gasping, feeling little better than when he went to sleep, Triss pulled himself from the sweat soaked sheets, to stand leaning heavily against the wall as his thoughts began to assemble. Just once he wished for a restful night, unbroken by the screams. In the years since his planet died, the nightmares plagued him night after night, leaving him exhausted and shaking in the mornings. He'd tried drugs, hypno, and all forms of relaxants, liquid, legal and otherwise, to no avail. His nights were the enemy, and he had no way of facing them. They were simply to be endured.

He made his way to the kitchenette, and pressed for a coffee from the dispenser. Of all the beverages available from the machine, the local brew, heavy with stimulating caffeine, had become his preferred morning beverage. Taking the steaming cup into the control room, he slumped before the main console, momentarily resting the cup on the counter while typing out a query on the prior day's events.

The machine display flickered momentarily, before coming up with several windows showing various broadcasts of the local "news". Isolating one of the more likely prospects, he turned on the volume, and listened to the announcer coverage of the event.

"...the destruction of the facility was almost complete. While no casualties were reported, sources say the cost of repairs to the building may run into the millions. No witnesses were present for questioning. In other news..."

He muted the volume, before taking a sip from his coffee. No witnesses, huh? Seems the marauders were as efficient as usual, in both cleaning up their dead, and eliminating any "evidence", breathing or otherwise.

He leaned back, putting his feet on the console, and pondered the previous night's events. He'd taken out at least a few, before they had sliced him up. His target, a high level controller, had managed to grab a blade before he could be neutralised, and had nearly disembowelled him. It was only a stroke of fortune that the hooked knife had gotten stuck in the padding of the chair Triss had used as a shield, allowing him the opportunity to take out his target before being completely outclassed. Triss rubbed his arm absently, considering how close he'd come to being killed. Wouldn't be the first time, he thought to himself wryly, before returning to the display and beginning the long task of filing his report.

Several hours later, paperwork completed, saw him lounging in the small recreation area in the facility. It still amazed him how such a complex structure like the cache could be compressed into such a small area. A lot of practice doing it, he thought, finding momentary amusement at the prospect. Most target worlds had a facility like this, but the fit out often varied from the most basic, to fairly sophisticated. Luckily for him, his base for his current assignment fell into the second category.

He continued to mull over the previous day's action. Somehow, the marauders had known he was coming. His ambush was no coincidence. The fact he completed his assignment seemed, in hindsight, to be more luck than otherwise. Eventually, tired of his unproductive musings, he donned his clothes, triggered his chameleon unit, and left the cache for an evening outside the facilities, to escape both his thoughts and his environment.

A few hours later, strolling from the cinema's entrance, he chewed absently on the remainder of his popcorn, while ambling through the crowded streets. Surrounded by humans out for their evening on the town, he kept to himself as he wandered aimlessly towards the seedier districts of the town. The native's preoccupation with sex always amused Triss, who had grown up in a more civilised environment. With few exceptions, the blatant "in your face" attitude they had towards such matters had startled him when he had first been assigned here 2 years earlier. Now, he found himself acclimatised to the point of indifference. Sex was sex, whatever planet you happened to be on. Perhaps those on his home world might have been shocked at his blasé attitude. Then again, given they were all long dead and gone, their opinion mattered little.

The movie he'd seen; involving giant robots that turned into automobiles; had been entertaining, if unrealistic. While primitive compared to the holo films produced by the more sophisticated equipment he was used to, they had a certain charm, and no one could deny their animalistic appeal. Violence seemed the order in this world. An earlier incarnation of Triss might have been horrified at their attraction to such low end emotions, but the longer he lived here, the more they seemed to suit his mood. Perhaps they were rubbing off on him, he mused, while wandering down a darkened alleyway between buildings on his way back to the cache.

He'd nearly made it back to the security of the cache before noticing the faint sound of footsteps behind him. The previous night's rain had long cleared, but the streets were still saturated. While the individual stalking him tried to avoid the pools of water on the ground, their night vision was not nearly as good as Triss' own. A stumble, followed by a near silent curse, indicated that this was no casual passerby. At least, he thought with wry amusement, it wasn't a marauder. They wouldn't have been caught dead making such a raucous.

He stepped back into a darkened alcove sheltering a door, tensing as he heard further footsteps following the first. At least five of them, he thought, reaching into his pants leg for the blade kept there. While a pistol may have been more effective, standard procedure was to keep off-world technology out of the streets, unless you were on a mission. If such items were to find their way to the local criminal element or, more worryingly, to the planets military, there would be no telling where it could lead. Many in the Corp thought it risky enough needing to utilise the chameleon units to mask their identities, although they were essential. Without the disguise, operating on such planets would be impossible. So, instead, the powers that be insisted on keeping the sophistication of all weapons used to a "local" level. That left bladed weapons, or bare handed combat, as his only choices.

When the last of the group had passed, Triss stepped quietly out of the doorway, following them further into the darkness. While his initial concern they had been trailing him had passed, he remained curious what could interest such a group so completely. He knew what such humans could be like; cold, hard and ruthless. Generally, he kept his distance from such as these, as any involvement in their activities might give away his presence on the planet. This group, however, seemed different. The few glimpses he had of them showed a level above the standard street trash dirtying up such places. Their suits and demeanour clashed with their current environment.

The group made their way deeper into the back lots of the building, before reaching an open area banked by a large warehouse. As Triss watched from the shadows, there was a loud grinding noise as the warehouse dock door was opened from within. A hushed exchange of conversation followed, and the group moved into the relative privacy of the warehouse. Unable to help himself, Triss was about to creep closer, in an attempt to make out what was being said, when he realised another individual was making its way through the alley behind him. Ducking behind a nearby dumpster, he observed a large male human, sporting a trench coat and semi automatic handgun, slip into the dock area.

The cloaked figure moved past Triss' hiding spot, to the space he had recently vacated, clearly trying to follow his lead in eavesdropping on the occupants inside. After spending several minutes observation, Triss comcluded this newcomer shared no love of the group, as his lips had curled into a snarl of distaste over what he was hearing. From his own position, Triss had been unable to follow the bulk of the conversation, which had become somewhat heated as those inside began opening several wooden crates, removing the contents into the dim light for a more detailled inspection.

Guns, he thought to himself. Rifles, pistols, even a rocket launcher. Shit, who were they thinking of taking on? The army?

Apparently the watching human must have had similar thoughts, as he followed the group with cold eyes, before suddenly starting to his feet, and rushing the warehouse entrance, gun drawn and pointed at the group.

"This is the police!" he commanded, covering the gang with his weapon. "Put your weapons on the ground and step back from the crates." The group, while initially startled into immovability, did as directed, while the newcomer proceeded forward to confront them?

Triss was impressed despite himself. Some balls he has, he mused, watching the action in fascination. While he'd tackled such odds himself on many prior occasions, it was never without careful preparation. Such a bold move, clearly not premeditated, was either the act of an experienced operator, or suicide for the novice.

The police officer reached into a pocket of his coat with his free hand, removing a mobile phone. Flipping it open, and without taking his eyes of the party he covered, he began making a call to his colleagues. Unfortunately, what he failed to notice was yet another figure creeping up behind him from outside the building.

Shit, Triss thought to himself, this is going to get ugly.

The stranger came up behind the officer and struck him across the back of the skull with a short metal pole. The officer dropped like a stone, striking his head further on the concrete and falling unconscious. The other members of the gang picked up their weapons, before laughing at his predicament. The group converged on the humans' body, with one giving him a swift kick in the ribs; a muffled groan being the only response.

"What do we do with him, Boss" one of the thugs asked another, who was staring at the unconscious man grimly.

"Kill him" he received in reply, before the leader returning to the open crates of weapons.

Triss pondered his dilemma quickly. While it was a cardinal rule to avoid local politics of any sort, legal or otherwise, to stand and watch another sentient being killed in cold blood was beyond him. With a silent curse, he threw one of his knives at the thug preparing to shoot the officer, while charging a second standing beyond him. The suddenness of his attack worked in his favour, with his blade striking the first in the chest, burying itself to the hilt before he dropped, groaning and clutching his chest weakly. A swift kick to the head dealt with the second, before he threw his second knife at a third. Dropping to the floor, he grabbed the discarded pistol of one of the gang, sending bullets tearing through the final two. The boss, seeing his men incapacitated so suddenly, had sheltered behind the crates as the action started, before bolting to the back of the warehouse, calling for assistance and firing his own weapon wildly in Triss' direction.

Knowing his time was limited, Triss quickly knelt over the unconscious officer, checking his vitals and assessing his injuries. Not good, he thought to himself, as a commotion began in the depths of the warehouse. If he was to leave the human here, he was as good as dead, either from his wounds, or from those returning with the "boss".

Cursing briefly, he grabbed the human by the arm, before slinging him roughly over a shoulder and staggering out the warehouse door. While heavy and unwieldy, the human's weight was still manageable, and Triss made haste through the darkened alley with his burden, ignoring the cries of alarm from behind him. Within moments, he'd disappeared into the night.

Resting briefly a short time later, Triss began to realise this human needed some seriously urgent medical attention. He grimaced, knowing the sort of attention this would cause, and the risk it posed to his cover. His choices were difficult; either allow the human to die here, untreated, or break every rule in the book, and take him to the cache for further attention.

Snarling to himself, he reshouldered his burden set off towards the cache in haste.

After settling the human in the medical pod he had so earlier vacated, Triss retreated to the comm centre to ponder his dilemma. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and even the stimulants he had taken upon his return had done little to resolve the aching in his body from the harsh treatment it had suffered the past few days. Even the coffee he'd grabbed from the kitchen area failed to settle him down.

His initial thought was to contact Ops and advise them of his human "problem", but the thought of the chewing out he'd receive was galling. What the hell should he have done? Left the human to die?

He grimaced, sipping his coffee thoughtfully, before settling more comfortably into the comm chair to formulate his report. They were going to fry his arse on this one. At least, he pondered with some amusement, they had a good excuse for a change. He sighed, resting his head back against the padded rest, and closing his eyes for a moment to consider his options...

It was the sound of the comm centre door opening that woke him up. Momentarily confused, he opened his eyes, staring into the blank screen before him, while trying to make sense of his surroundings.

Then a voice broke the silence.

"I suppose asking where I am might be a bit pointless?" it said, as Triss staggered to his feet, spinning around to stare at the now quite conscious human standing in the comm room door.

Oh fuck, he thought. This is NOT good!

The human began to examine Triss curiously, eyeing him from head to toe, while continuing to lean in the doorway. Triss realised with further alarm that his chameleon system was still switched off following his return.

"So, I suppose I have you to thank for the impromptu rescue?" he was asked, before the human moved slowly forward, continuing to stare at him intently. His back to the control panel, Triss considered his options, preparing to disable the human if necessary. Pausing within arm's length of the Krynn, it slowly extended a hand towards Triss, before gently running it across his shoulder curiously.

Looking down at the pink fingers caressing his fur, Triss shuddered inwardly, before the fingers withdrew and the human stepped back against the comm room wall. They eyed each other uncertainly, before the human spoke again.

"OK, you're obviously real, and I'm not just hallucinating. I have no idea what the hell you are, but...well...thanks for getting me out of there in one piece"

Triss looked at the tall human, and relaxed somewhat. Obviously it wasn't going to attack him, and at least it seemed friendly enough. He went to reply, when the human sniffed suddenly, moving forward to stare intently before pointing at the empty cup sitting on the counter near Triss' hand.

"Is that coffee?" it asked hopefully.

"Err, yes. It's coffee" Triss replied, looking down at the cup before again returning his gaze to the watching human.

The human smiled, lips parting in an infectious grin, before raising an eyebrow and saying "Well?"

Confused, Triss replied "Well what?"

Giving a short bark of laughter, the human said "Well, who do I have to kill to get a cup of bloody coffee?"

Letting out an answering grin, Triss pointed down the hallway, motioning for the lanky human to follow him to the kitchen...

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 3: Introductions.**


	3. Chapter 3: Introductions

**With darkness descending: The story of Triss Nighthunter.  
A furry fiction by Rocko Wallaby**

**DISCLAIMER:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Introductions.**

The human and Krynn eyed each other across the kitchen table, sipping their respective drinks, and considering what to say.

The man burned with questions to ask the creature opposite. Clearly, he wasn't human, although he considered that asking "what the hell are you?" might be overly rude. It was also obviously intelligent, not to mention surprisingly interesting looking, with its shiny black fur with silver highlights, large tufted ears and a muzzle full of very sharp teeth. At around 5 foot 6, it was quite a bit shorter than the lanky human, but was packed with wiry muscles that looked itching to release. Bright yellow, slitted eyes watched him carefully from below bushy brows. Kind of like a freaky wolf-cat cross thing, he thought. Dangerous looking too, with all those claws and teeth. He seemed friendly enough, although it looked pretty uncomfortable with his being there. Not surprising, given he probably wasn't meant to be.

In return, Triss considered the human carefully. The fact he hadn't gone mental when he'd woke up alone and isolated in such a strange facility, pointed to a stoic sort of personality, which was unsurprising in his profession. However, he knew he was in a world of shit when the powers that be discovered his slip-up in allowing the human access into the cache unmonitored. Shrugging internally, he dismissed it as unavoidable. No changing the past, and as killing the human wasn't really an option, he had to deal with him directly.

Sighing, he looked at the human, before reaching towards him with a hand outstretched. "Triss" he said.

The human looked at him, then his hand, eyeing the sharp looking claws thoughtfully, before reaching out himself, enclosing the furred hand with his own and gripping it firmly. "Travers" he replied, before releasing his grip and returning to his seat. Taking a sip from his coffee, he brought his thoughts into order, before asking "I don't suppose there is a perfectly logical reason for all this, is there?" waving his hand at the room around him.

Triss thought for a moment, before grinning and replying "It depends on where you're standing. From my perspective, it's just a normal day in the office, although having you in here drinking my coffee fucks my morning up nicely."

Trav chuckled, resting his cup on the table and leaning closer. "OK. Let me try summing it up. Obviously, you're not from around here. You're also no guy in a dog suit. This setup is pretty sophisticated. Clearly expensive to set up, too. It's also pretty clear you've been here a long time, given your familiarity with us. Doing well so far?"

Triss nodded, and replied "Go on. You're doing fine"

Gazing at him thoughtfully, Trav continued "You had some business rolling over those scum last night?"

Triss shook his head. "Nope. Pure coincidence. Came across them while coming home from a movie. Saw you go down, and couldn't leave you there"

Trav raised an eyebrow, looking down at his furred countenance. "You were seeing a movie? Looking like that? Seriously?"

"Yep. Popcorn; frozen Coke; the works."

"Which movie?"

"Transformers, actually"

"So, the large wolf alien guy went out to see a movie about space robots, before rolling a whole bunch of criminals, and dragging my sorry ass back here to patch up?"

"Well, apart from not looking like an alien wolf guy at the time, that's the long and short of it, yeah" Triss replied.

He flicked on his chameleon system, and the human raised an eyebrow further, as his furry features were superimposed by those of a short, wiry, human.

Trav looked him over, before reaching out and touching Triss on the arm again. Still furry.

"Neat, but you look better as a...whatever you are. As a human, you're pretty...boring"

"Krynn" Triss volunteered, before turning the chamo off. "Sorry, but it itches like a bitch at times. Makes my fur stand on end. Besides, boring is good. Helps us blend in."

"Yeah. I can see that. Hmm."

Trav leaned back, eyeing Triss cautiously. "What did you think of the movie?"

Triss chuckled again, before replying "Bit retarded, actually. Had enough holes in the plot to drive a bus through. A typical "Michael Bay movie". Harry Potter was much better"

Trav gave a barking laugh, before asking the important one "So you're not part of an alien invasion force, out to enslave us?"

Triss snorted, spraying a mouthful of coffee from his nose across the table, before coughing harshly to clear his airways. Always alien invasions with these humans, he thought! What is with their anal probe obsession?

After he recovered enough to reply, he rolled his eyes and said to Trav "Do you have any idea how unfeasible an alien invasion is? Really? The logistics alone are unworkable. Bringing in enough ships, personnel and equipment to take over a planet this size while subduing the occupants as slaves, or whatever, when there are billions of asteroids circling this sun with mining resources to put this mud ball to shame? Umm, no. No enslavement by aliens. Not even with giant robots. Sorry..."

Trav nodded. "Didn't really think so" he said. "Does beg the question, though. Why are you here?"

Sighing, Triss made a decision. One that would likely have his arse kicked out of the corps, but he decided he liked this human, and his attitude. What the fuck was one more broken law, when he'd already fucked the whole rule book.

"Well, you see, you have a pest problem, that you're not even aware of. One that could screw up your whole planet if left untreated. We call them Marauders, and it's my job to exterminate them."

"The marauders came out of the Seta quadrant, first making themselves known around 2500 of your years ago. It's not that they caused a huge fuss at the time. Quite the opposite, in fact. Ships crossing the area just... disappeared. Cargo vanished, crew vanished. No trace.

Lots of investigations were conducted. Patrol ships were dispatched, scientists were sent looking for vagrant wormholes, sub space eddies, anything that could explain it. Nothing was found.

A decade passed, more ships were lost. Eventually, the Corps were irritated enough to send a whole squad out there, laden with detection equipment and the best of the scientists, to look into it thoroughly. The last report we had from them was they were checking out an old ion trail, possibly from the passing of a group of ships, and had planned on sending scouts out to investigate."

Triss looked at the human watching him thoughtfully, before sighing and continuing.

"That was the last we heard from them. Forty heavily armed ships vanished, just like the rest, with one exception. Someone had the foresight, as well as the opportunity, to send back a data probe. While limited in information, it did reveal the squad had been attacked by a large number of vessels, greatly outnumbering their own. They hadn't a chance. Sure, they took out a lot, but outnumbered ten to one, all they could do was put a dent in their opponents before being annihilated. Seems the enemy had developed a communications suppression field, to ensure their raids were conducted in secret. The probe lay there relatively dormant, recording the event, including their stripping of the ships and slaughter of the crews. Anyone left standing was simply rounded up, stuck in an airlock, and spaced while still alive. Not a pretty sight.

They spent two days gutting the wrecks, before they all returned to subspace. The probe took the opportunity to slip away, but not before recording one final action of the pirates. They set off a Nova bomb to cover their escape. It basically annihilates matter, reducing the whole area of space to its component atoms, before sucking them into a wormhole it creates. Hence, the lack of any material evidence, not to mention survivors"

Leaning back and taking a sip of his quickly cooling coffee, he continued.

"We called them Marauders, since that's what they did. Eventually, one of their ships were captured, and the crew interrogated. Xenophobes of the worst kind. Hell, they make you humans look downright friendly by comparison. So, the United Systems left them alone. No one entered their territories, and the killing and looting stopped.

The peace, if you can call it that, lasted until around 100 years ago, when they suddenly began expanding. Their modus operandi differed this time, in that they infiltrated a planets government, bribing their way into the system, while clandestinely gathering information on the biology of the planet and its inhabitants. Once they get their claws in deep enough, they'd leave. At least, until they send a DNA selective bio bomb to the world to wipe out the sapient species, leaving the planet free for them to colonise. It was then ready to inhabit, with all the original infrastructure still in place! It's the first time your actual alien invasion idea worked, in part. Genocide is a little bit different than occupation and suppression. Although with no-one on planet to oppose them, they didn't need to invade anything, simply moving in and occupied the place. When they were avoiding United System worlds, there was little we could do about them, apart from keep an eye on their actions, and sabotaging their operations whenever possible. That's where I fit in. Field agent; saboteur; terrorist to marauders; whatever way you want to call it. If we think the planet suitable, we can offer them membership in the US, and what protection they can offer against the enemy. If not, well...we can try warning them, but..."

Trav thought about this "So, where do we rate?"

Triss sighed "Your species has an enormous amount of potential for good, coupled with an equally large tendency towards violence. The council is still deciding if you're an ally, or a menace as bad as the marauders. Personally, I find you people kind of refreshing. United planets tend to be... overly civilised. If they were any more anal, they'd have their heads up each other's collective arses. You humans though, you're alive in ways they only dream about"

Triss leaned forward, almost eagerly "I hope they continue to help you, as I think you deserve helping. The real issue is getting you lot to work together towards a common goal, in the time left before you're all wiped out."

"So, why not just come out into the open and explain this to the world's governments?" Trav asked, before grimacing at his own question. He'd seen enough movies on how they'd handle such a situation, too.

Triss nodded. "Exactly. You pinkskins, as a whole, have an issue determining priorities. Your leaders would fight to the death, both verbally and literally, on how to handle this, while the Marauders wiped you out from within, unchallenged."

Travers pondered the implications of that last statement, asking himself whether he believed the story. While he was sure there was more to the truth than this, he realised he couldn't risk the future of the human species by taking the chance it wasn't at least partially real. Besides, the worst that could happen is he made an arse of himself, or ended up dead. Given yesterday, as death was a certainty he'd already avoided once this week, he assumed he had nothing to lose there. He needed to find out all the facts. Besides, he kind of liked this alien, fur and all. So he asked, with an ironic grin. "How do I help?"

Triss raised an eyebrow in a remarkably human way, before replying "Hmm, seriously? I'd need to call in a few favours, but... what the fuck. Telling you all this, I'm already up to my eyeballs in shit. What could it hurt."

Leaning across the table, he clapped Travers on the shoulder, before sitting back with a toothy grin. "Welcome to the Corps, human. The last line of defence before the world goes to shit. Lets hope we all survive the experience"

Triss returned to the kitchen room where Trav was waiting, and slumped into his seat in relief. When the human eyed him curiously, he gave him a weary thumbs up, before reaching into the fridge for some beers.

"Well, that was...difficult", he sighed, before popping the caps with a claw and passing one across to Trav. "While it appears I'll be up for some further training when I return on the appropriateness of releasing classified information to indigenous life forms, they eventually caved in, seeing as how the damage had already been done. I think I should consider it fortunate I'm not due back at HQ for at least a few years!"

Trav grinned, taking a swig of his brew, and leaning forward towards the furred alien. "So, what now?" he asked.

Triss looked at him, before drinking himself. "Oh, now we get you up to speed!"

Trav looked puzzled for a moment "On?" he asked.

"Everything" was the reply.

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 4: Mission.**


	4. Chapter 4: Mission

**With darkness descending: The story of Triss Nighthunter.  
A furry fiction by Rocko Wallaby**

**DISCLAIMER:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Mission.**

Two weeks later, with Travers nursing an aching head from the deep neural training equipment, the two sat in the comm centre and discussed their next move. Trav had called his own precinct, scoring several weeks leave to "recover" from the ordeal he had suffered earlier. While not happy, following a call from locals concerned at the sound of gunfire, his colleagues had attended the scene following their flight, and had been witness to the bodies present, as well as the pool of blood from his head wound. It wasn't especially difficult for him to arrange some time off as, with Triss' help and that of the cache computers, they had arranged for the appropriate medical records of his injuries to be "inserted" into the local hospitals files. When he attended the precinct, head bandaged appropriately, to report on both the incident and his current condition, the grilling out he received matched that received by Triss, for his stupidity in attending the scene alone and not calling for backup sooner. The gang members who weren't killed had escaped the scene, although the police had managed to confiscate the weapons which had not been relocated by the time they arrived. So, the partial win in Travers favour saved his bacon.

The marauders had kept their public activity quiet since the raid, giving Triss time to sort out the "human problem" in the cache. With Trav now filled in on the basics of the operation, they began discussing their next move.

"While my killing of the sector head may buy us some time, once they get their ruffles up, they're like a swarm of angry Kn'aak. They're going to be hunting me for months. So, you being on the team will give us a numbers advantage, as well as upping the element of surprise. Prior to my last target being eliminated, there was a marked increase in Marauder activity around the dock area, where HQ feels they have set up a local chemical manufacturing facility. It's believed their intention is to gain the equipment and materials needed to commence manufacture of the biological agents they use to wipe out planets prior to colonisation. As you can gather," he said, with a wry grin at Trav, "it will be crucial to stop them doing so"

Trav frowned, pointing at the blueprints scattered across the comm room table, singling out the waterfront building they were planning to stake out with a thick finger. "This place is pretty heavily secured. Look at the entry points. Not one, but two levels of entry. Gain access through the outer door, only to hit the second set."

He pointed to the rooms adjacent to the entries. "These are unusual, too. See how the walls between these rooms and the entry corridor are concrete reinforced? Why would they do that? Unless it's not actually a hallway, but a staging area to repel attackers? Hmm, imagine getting through the first set of doors, only to see them shut behind you, and then be ambushed by a bunch of Marauders rushing out from those rooms? Just like the concept of a barbican used in medieval castle design. Not pleasant."

Tris followed his finger as it traced the diagram, and pursed his lip in thought. Given it left his tongue hanging half out his mouth, Trav almost chuckled in amusement, but managed to hold back and keep the atmosphere appropriately sombre.

"So, how do you suggest we tackle this?" Trav asked. Triss pulled his gaze away from the maps for a moment, before pointing at the elevation view of the building. "Enter via the roof", he said. Trav looked puzzled. With no external stair case, and quiet entry the priority, how were they going to get up there without a helicopter?

Triss gestured for Trav to follow him, leaving the comm room and moving down the main hallway towards the armoury. Trav had explored the area earlier, with his new found knowledge of alien technology, gazing in awe at the equipment on display. While his electronic training had covered most critical areas, much of the gear on display was still unfathomable to him. When Triss lead him to some hard shelled backpacks hanging on the far wall, he wondered how they might be useful, until Triss activated one. Jet nozzles sprang from the sides, and the unit began hovering in front of them. This was the AG unit mentioned in his briefing, and was certainly one way to access the roof.

"Hope you're cool with heights" Triss asked him.

"Only from an aircraft" he replied.

Triss chuckled, and began pointing out the various controls. "Right joystick for direction; forward, backward, left, right. Left hand throttle grip for elevation and speed. Latest tech, light weight, and good for six hours continuous flight. A bit of practice in the simulator, and you'll be flying like a pro"

Trav looked at the gear doubtfully. "Just so long as I'm not a splattered, ground pancake pro"

His grin widening, Triss said "Well, no one has died using one of these units in years. They're almost foolproof!"

Almost, Trav thought to himself?

Oh well. It could have been worse.

Could have been twenty flights of stairs!

They planned the raid on the Marauder facility for the following night. Trav came up to speed on the anti grav pack sim, crashing significantly less than he feared. As he had been told, the unit was relatively foolproof, and the internal stabilisers could only be overwritten by severe movements of the control yokes. As well as the backpacks, they hung various weapons from their harnesses, including several particle beam rifles not normally used outside the cache. As Triss had said to him earlier, "This is going to be no evening jaunt in the park. We need to scrub their operation in a single hit, or they'll be all over us like Synervian flu. We stick to the plan, and we're out of there in less than five minutes. If we don't, we're Ta'aka meat."

The plan was relatively straightforward. If they followed the same format they had in similar installations, the Marauders would have a central lab facility surrounded by multiple layers of security. To get to the heart of the complex would normally mean gaining entrance through the booby trapped front door, fighting through line after line of infantry, completing the mission, before shooting your way out. This would be impossible for just the two of them. Instead, they planned on a rooftop rendezvous, cutting through the ceiling, and dealing with the facility from above, before exiting the way they came. The warehouse had a double skinned roof for insulation, with a two meter gap between the layers. Enough space to move through judiciously to complete their objectives. A nice, simple plan requiring minimal preparation.

It was midnight when they converged on the river bank on the opposite shore from their goal. Pulling up his van in the empty lot of a riverside park, they donned their camo units, rigged their gear, and rose into the night sky towards their target. Thankfully, while the cloud cover was heavy and rain threatened, the sky above them remained clear of it. Tracking across the river thirty feet above the choppy water below, they approached the warehouse district in silence. Some areas in the docks were brightly lit, with the busy scurrying and bustle of cargo being unloaded and shipped out. However, their target remained shrouded in darkness.

The experience of near silent flight was inexplicably pleasurable for Trav, who overcame his height related nerves within a few minutes. While the training he'd undertaken had given him the skills needed to use the unit, the reality of actually being there and experiencing the cold air rushing past was exhilarating. From that point, it was pure enjoyment of the rush of cold air, and sounds reflecting from the water beneath.

Once they were within clear view of the far shoreline, they increased altitude to five hundred feet, before crossing the edge of the docks and rising over the warehouse complex. Their initial goal was a building around half a mile from their target, where they landed on the roof behind several cooling units. Divesting themselves of their unnecessary gear, including the bulk of their medical kits, they quickly set up a small area from which to conduct their raid. Triss assembled their combat equipment, passing a particle rifle to Trav, who then used the cover of the cooling tower to scope their target. While externally appearing no different from a normal rifle used by the local military, it contained several significant enhancements, including advanced scopes and significantly increased accuracy and range. In particular, the scope featured enhanced AI targeting systems, allowing a sniper to pick specific areas on a target, such as their head or neck, which normally could be too difficult to strike from a greater distance.

From his vantage point, using the scope to scan the rooftop opposite, Trav noted the position of several Marauders patrolling the area. He had been briefed by both Triss and the cache's systems of their combat abilities, both with and without weapons. His own personal training in the police force had covered many contingencies, but tackling something with claws and teeth was new for him. The cache had filled in the blanks, providing him with further training in the sim to hone up his skills.

Picking his first target, he waited for Triss to complete his preparation. Receiving a nod to begin, he took careful aim at one of the dark silhouettes on the adjacent rooftop, before squeezing the trigger. With the enhanced accuracy of the weapon, he shot the first Marauder in the head, then quickly took out the second and third. All three dropped silently, before having any opportunity to sound an alarm.

Trav and Triss spent several tense minutes in wait, before confirming that the coast was clear. Their hop across to the target building was uneventful, and they dropped to the rooftop silently, before checking the Marauders were permanently down.

Picking up a communications unit from one corpse, Triss plugged it into his comm system, where the inherent AI cracked the Marauders encryption, before encoding itself into their matrix. Within seconds, the harsh, guttural language of the Marauders could be heard across the comm. Translated for Trav's benefit, they began to form an understanding of the setup inside the warehouse, based on the information they were receiving.

While Trav had heard recordings of the language, the coarseness of the Marauders speech hit him hard. While still dulled in translation, it was clear they worked on a hierarchy system, with guttural orders being followed without question. Efficient in some ways, it still left the marauders open to covert attack, as their mindset found it difficult to handle such duplicity. Their very nature was to follow orders without question, regardless the source, and the common foot soldier could be duped into actions others would not consider, simply by passing on the appropriate commands in their language. In addition, while on patrol, it was the norm to only report back if suspicious activity was encountered, so Trav and Triss were unlikely to be disturbed until such time as the guards were due for changing.

With the three rooftop sentries dealt with, they confirmed that the cavity section beneath was not patrolled, although the stairwell leading down from the roof was heavily guarded. Not unsurprising, given their operations in the building. Trav left his rifle leaning against the railing at the roof edge, before assisting Triss in setting up the cutting equipment they were to use to enter the cavity proper. The compact laser emitted an energy wave beyond the visible spectrum that could be detected by the enemy. Flicking his visor sensors beyond the UV wavelength, Trav could just faintly make out the intense energy being released by the unit, and was grateful for the protective clothing he wore, that prevented his skin crisping under the onslaught of the cutter. It took only a few moments to cut a large enough opening through the sheeting to give them access.

During their mission planning, they had decided to keep the anti grav units on throughout the operation, as they may have been needed for a quick escape once their goal had been achieved. While bulky, they were surprisingly light, and offered little restriction of movement to the wearer. However, they operated poorly in confined spaces, receiving interference from close objects. Triss set up a lightweight, yet strong, pyramidal frame over the opening, attaching monofilament cables to the chest plate of both of their body armour. Lowering themselves into the opening, they descended to the inner roof trusses, careful to keep their weight solely on the structural support of the roof trusses, and off the roof lining itself. Bending down, Trav removed a self-drilling optic fibre camera from his belt clip, pressing it to the roof lining firmly. It began silently boring a small hole through the panel beneath, sucking the debris it produced into its internal holding tank and ensuring nothing dropped into the space below. Within seconds, high resolution images of the area beneath were being projected into their visor optical displays.

Their initial impression of the main floor setup was of organized chaos, with marauder workers scurrying throughout the mess of equipment below. Long conveyor belts transported various components throughout the area, stainless pipes relayed fluids from large tanks lining the walls, and an immense glass window on the far wall gave a view into the main laboratory itself, where scientists in sealed hazmat suits were busy breeding their lethal biological agents.

Triss had briefed Trav on the various bio weapons used by the Marauders. The most commonly used technique utilised a DNA specific pathogen, which mimicked the hosts own DNA, replicating and spreading throughout the hosts system, before breaking down into toxic sub elements. The host had no inkling of any negative effects, before their brief, and painful, demise through total internal systems failure. Not a pleasant way to go, Trav had thought, after wincing through videos showing the bloody processes such victims experienced.

Such weapons needed careful handling, and Triss had repeatedly emphasised to Trav the importance of taking extreme care during the raid, in not accidentally releasing the pathogens into the environment prematurely. They tended to be robust organisms, able to spend considerable time outside a host, before eventually dying. This made their raid somewhat risky. However, as a weapon, they had one significant flaw; even a relatively small elevation in ambient temperature would destroy them completely. Simply blowing up the facility was not an option, as it could disperse the deadly pathogens early, but immolating them with fire would contain and destroy them, even if the contagion had been spread nearby. It would also have the secondary effect of destroying all traces of the Marauder presence, ensuring local government agents did not find themselves with access to vital alien technology.

Their plan was to distribute incendiary bombs in a grid throughout the roof cavity area, before setting the devices off remotely. The internal ceiling would then be blown inwards, releasing a fireball throughout the warehouse, and destroying the bio weapons and alien tech in a controlled manner. All fine on paper, of course. However, without a detailed schematic of the warehouse modification, it carried a significant element of risk.

Triss beamed back the video feed of the factory floor to the cache's AI system, which quickly formulated a plan for placement of their available explosives in the most efficient manner. This was then forwarded to Trav and Triss, who silently began moving throughout the huge cavity area, locating the bombs where indicated.

They had a momentary scare when Trav slipped from a support frame, dropping one of the casings onto the cavity floor below. They froze, while Triss used the camera feed to scan the room below. One Marauder worker, more alert than the others, briefly raised a cowled gaze towards the ceiling. When no source of the disturbance was immediately found, he shifted his attention back to the equipment he was operating.

Triss gave a thumbs up, while Trav shakily retrieved the casing, before attaching it to the roof support where indicated on his monitor. It took a long thirty minutes to attach all the explosives, but they met no resistance, returning to the hole cut in the roof without encountering any further problems. Returning to the roof, Trav breathed a huge sigh of relief, before being clapped on the shoulder by the grinning Krynn.

"Not out of the woods yet, buddy!", Triss said quietly, handing Trav back his rifle. "When we're home and safe, you can relax. Till then, let's get the flying fuck out of here!"

Trav nodded, clipping the rifle to his harness, before activating his anti grav unit, and following Triss to their original drop point half a mile away.

Triss solemnly handed Trav the triggering unit, giving the human a short bow in acknowledgement of their accomplishment. "I think you deserve the honour of this one", he said, before returning his intent gaze to the distant building. Trav hesitated a moment before flipping the protective guard from above the trigger.

"Fire in the hold, mother fuckers!" he whispered, and pressed the button.

Within the cavity of the ceiling, the red indicator lights on the incendiary charge casings blinked momentarily, before all turning green. Simultaneously releasing a cascade of fireballs through the roofing cavity, the internal ceiling collapsed violently into the work area below, filling the room with fiery death and killing those inside immediately. The workers in the hazard room had a few extra moments to ponder their fate, some running frantically towards the rear exit in a vain attempt to escape, before the glass containment walls shattered inwards, and they were immolated in the fireball. The temperature rose to a thousand degrees in the enclosed space within the factory walls, destroying all traces of the bio agent and turning the equipment inside into sludge, before the external warehouse walls could no longer contain the conflagration within, exploded outwards and showering debris across a huge area.

From their vantage point, Trav watched the drama unfold with troubled eyes, before receiving another clap on the shoulder from the Krynn, who was eyeing him curiously. He gave a shrug in reply, before returning his gaze to the fiery devastation he had helped cause. Some time later, when the roof finally collapsed into the structure, he turned away and began following Triss's retreating form across the water towards their waiting vehicle.

* * *

Trav took a long swig of his latest beer, after touching his bottle to Triss's. Once they had returned to the cache and returned their equipment to store, Trav made his way to the locker room, where he shrugged his clothes and turned on the water in the shower. Stepping into the flowing water, he lowered his head under the stream, supporting himself against the shower wall opposite, and considering his actions that day. He knew why they had had to do what they'd done. The Marauders were planning genocide of his species. That was incontrovertible. But the fact he'd been responsible for so many deaths, still sat hard with him. He felt "unclean", and no amount of washing would help it. His entire life as a police officer had involved protecting people, including from the sorts of events he had helped set in motion that evening. In doing so, his actions went against everything he believed in.

After nearly an hour had passed, Triss poked his head into the shower cubicle, eyeing the soaking, naked human with some concern.

"You OK?" he asked, worry written across his furred face.

"Yeah" Trav replied quietly, finally turning off the stream of water, and reaching for a towel.

Triss studied him for a few moments, before quietly closing the door and returning to the kitchen. He knew what the human was feeling, having experienced something similar himself after his first mission. Admittedly, in his case, the pain of losing everything dear to him made the adaption easier, but there was no dishonour in experiencing disquiet after such an operation. In a "civilised" universe, it wasn't always civilised action that kept the peace. Often someone had to take steps, however drastic, and then had to deal with the consequences.

He opened the pantry doors, removing several packets of food, which he placed on the bench top. These were followed by other items from the cold room. He began preparing something to eat, using the cooking facilities in the small kitchen to their best advantage. While the food was simmering, he returned to the pantry, returning with a carton of beer, which he opened and began to stack into the chiller. It could be a long night, he thought to himself. Best be prepared.

When Trav eventually made his entry, looking somewhat pale and wan in the artificial light of the dining area, Triss passed him the plate of chicken stir fry he'd prepared, along with a cold brew, before settling down to his own dinner. Trav downed the beer in one hit, gazing at the condensation dripping down the bottle, before tossing the empty into the recycling receptacle. Reaching for a second, he took another long pull, before returning to toy with his meal with a listless fork.

Unsurprisingly, he wasn't that hungry. If anything, the rich food smell made him feel nauseous.

The night passed almost silently, with the two sharing little in the way of conversation. Trav continued to drink heavily, matched by Triss, until the two were fairly well tanked.

"We had no choice, did we?" Trav slurred, before burying his face in his hands on the table.

Triss sighed, before moving drunkenly around the table, and sitting next to the human. Throwing an arm around his shoulders, he gave him a squeeze, before helping him to his feet, and guiding him from the room. Trav staggered down the short corridor under the Krynn's guiding hand, before pausing at the lavatory to throw up noisily into the receptacle. Triss drew him up again, wiping his face gently with a soft towel, and helping him into the bedroom. Trav dropped heavily onto the sheets, snoring loudly, while Triss removed his shoes and clothes, and drew the sheets over him.

"You did good work today, human" he whispered into the darkness, before turning from the bed. However, as he began to leave the room, pausing to turn off the light, a voice behind him murmured quietly.

"Stay", it slurred, "Stay here tonight..."

Triss gazed down at him from the door way, hand paused indecisively on the handle. He then sighed and dropped his head, shutting his eyes for a brief moment, before returning to the room and closing the door gently behind him.

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 5: Aftermath.**


	5. Chapter 5: Aftermath

**With darkness descending: The story of Triss Nighthunter.  
A furry fiction by Rocko Wallaby**

**DISCLAIMER:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Aftermath.**

The next morning, Trav woke early from his sleep, stretching against the warmth of his sheets covering him. His internal body clock always had him up before 7am most mornings, and had no respect for the excesses encountered the night before. Not enough sleep, he thought fuzzily; never enough sleep! Reaching up to his face with a hand, he rubbed at his eyes and forehead, before cautiously opening them, squinting at the glare coming through the skylight above. He still felt somewhat disorientated following the previous nights indulgence, and it took a while for his vision to stop spinning and he was able to get his bearings.

He sighed, reaching back for his pillow, before his hand encountered something soft and warm lying against his chest. Running his hand along it, he felt it stir momentarily against his fingers, and he withdrew them carefully. Eyes widening in surprise, he slowly changed his position, turning to look into the still sleeping face of the Krynn he was resting against.

Damn, he thought to himself, before resting back into the crook of the Triss's arm carefully.

He felt him stir in his sleep, murmuring something intelligible, before the arm around him tightened momentarily and he felt the Krynn nuzzle gently into his hair. Trav froze, unsure what to do, but Triss began a slow, steady rumbling snore against him, clearly in no shape to wake any time soon. Trav looked down at the furred arm around him, and sighed, before carefully reaching to lift it away, and gently slipping the sheets from him.

He sat up slowly on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Triss's slumber. He rubbed his eyes again, before looking down at the Krynn. Triss looked peaceful, snuggled into the sheets with his naked, furred chest gently rising and falling with his breathing, and Trav felt no need to wake him. Besides, he was too busy himself wondering how they'd came to be sleeping together the previous night.

It wasn't that he was that shocked about it. Quite the opposite, in fact. He'd always been one to never judge another on their preferences and beliefs, but he still felt confused about the jumble of feelings he was experiencing about the situation. He liked the Krynn, for sure. Over the past few weeks they'd spent working together, he'd developed a deep respect for Triss, both personally and professionally, and he'd become quite comfortable being in his presence, furry face notwithstanding.

But he was an alien, for fucks sake! Jesus Christ, he wasn't human! Waking up with him in his bed should have sent him running for the hills, but he didn't. Nor did he want to. His mind reeled, as he tried to make some sense of what he was thinking.

Having the hangover from hell didn't help any, either.

Giving up trying to decipher the situation and sort out his feelings, he became aware of another fact; he stank! Vomit and sweat. Wrinkling his nose at the smell, he gingerly got to his feet, somewhat unsteady thanks to his spinning head, and cautiously made his way to the bathroom facilities. Morning ablutions completed, he stepped into the shower cubicle, running the water to temperature, and began washing the previous day's excesses from his skin.

His thoughts turned to their prior nights mission, which unsurprisingly seemed a lesser priority for him now. Recalling his feelings of the previous evening, he was surprised to realise he didn't feel the same as he had. Sure, he still felt some guilt, but it seemed less important now. It was a task that had to be done, and they had done it. The past few months spent here had convinced him that their cause was just, and like any other job, he had no delusions it was as simple as a "them or us" scenario. Such excuses were weak, and no justification for taking such action. He also understood that attempting to negotiate with these creatures would be futile, and they needed to be stopped.

Certainly, for the moment, they had been stopped quite effectively.

However, his thoughts kept slipping to another subject, distracting him from his deliberations. He kept picturing the sleeping furred form in his bed; the musky scent of the Krynn pressed against him and the softness of his fur; before shaking his head under the water stream to snap out of it. Now wasn't the time for such daydreams. He had more important concerns.

Turning off the water, he dried himself, before donning a clean change of clothes and tossing his soiled garments into the cleaner. Making his way to the kitchen, he put on the kettle, before turning on the viewing screen and tuning into the local news.

The coverage was saturated with the events of the previous evening.

Local authorities were calling it a gas explosion, possibly in an illegal drug manufacturing facility. The details were sketchy, but the fire had spread to several nearby warehouses, leading to an entire section of the docks being cordoned off. The cameras were changing between aerial views and on-the-spot reporters, and Trav had some trouble making sense of the information.

Then the reporter announced that the interview with the authorities was about to commence, and Trav was startled to see his own boss, Police Chief Kerry Williams, step onto the podium.

Crap. This should be interesting, he thought.

Clearing his throat, Chief Williams began his report by reviewing the events of the previous night. At around 12.30am, a fireball had engulfed the warehouse on "E" pier, quickly spreading to the adjoining warehouses. Fire fighters had attended the area by 1.00am, with over 30 units being called in to handle the massive blaze. The building in which the fire was suspected to have started had been completely gutted, with the heat having been intense enough to reduce the metal frame to molten, twisted wreckage. However, the event was being treated as suspicious, as the area was supposed to have been deserted, and it was clear that numerous vehicles had left the scene shortly before the authorities had arrived. Initial thoughts were that the fire had been caused by an explosion in an illicit drug manufacturing facility, although nothing had been ruled by the police out at this stage. Investigations would continue once the wreckage cooled enough to allow forensic personnel into the site, which was not expected for at least 24 hours.

Shit, thought Trav to himself. That was one serious fire.

He'd always been taught that if you had a job to do, you'd better do it well. They'd certainly achieved that!

Pondering the situation, Trav sipped his drink, trying to think how to clandestinely obtain more information on the investigation. While his forced sabbatical wasn't officially due to end until the following week, he thought a "premature" visit to the office wasn't unreasonable.

Getting up decisively, he quickly typed a message on the terminal for the cache AI to pass onto Triss when he woke later in the day. Donning his hat and coat, he stepped from the cache into the drizzling morning rain, turning up his coat collar and disappearing down the alley.

Triss woke to the muffled sound of voices coming from the monitor in the kitchen nearby. Stretching on the mattress, he felt his joints pop as his muscles pressed against his flesh. He was getting too old for this sort of shit, he thought to himself. He opened his eyes slowly, unsurprised to find himself alone in the bed. Trav, he knew, was an early riser, but he had almost hoped he might still be there, given his state of exhaustion (not to mention inebriation).

Pressing his face into the sheets, he breathed deeply of the human's scent. Exotic, even for someone as well travelled throughout the galaxy as he was. His own feelings on the situation were as confused as Trav's, and he debated how they had ended up sharing the bed. Why hadn't he ignored the human, when his quiet appeal had been made? He'd been drunk; totally out of it. What had made him do such a thing?

More to the point, why was he feeling so comfortable with having done it?

He sighed, releasing the sheets and allowing them to slip through his fingers back onto the mattress. A glance at the clock showed him that he'd already missed half the day, and he needed to lodge his report on the previous night's events.

Stretching tiredly again, he climbed out of bed, and made his way to the comms room, pausing only to grab a coffee from the kitchen. Seeing a cold, half empty cup on the bench, he realised Trav had been gone from the cache some time, as his keen sense of smell couldn't detect his presence in the centre. Resting heavily on the comms couch, the terminal lit up under his questing fingers, indicating a message had been left for him by Trav earlier that morning. After reading it, he sat back and considered the possibilities. Clearly Trav had gotten over some of his negative mental state, and was thinking to follow up the matter from the human angle. Not a bad idea, given how their actions had them scurrying around like a disturbed ants nest.

It took over an hour before his report was completed to his satisfaction. While the Marauder operation in the city had been neutralised, it was simply one small setback for them in an operation that spanned the globe. HQ had been aware of at least five other satellite facilities conducting similar research, and while Triss was only responsible for those conducted in his area of operation, he was continually updated with events occurring elsewhere around the planet.

The United Systems had placed six caches located at strategic points around the globe. Triss's own was located in Australia. Other facilities were positioned in North America, Central Europe, Asia, Africa and South America. All acted independently, reporting directly to United Systems Corps HQ as required and, in general, little interaction occurred between operatives from the various stations. Triss expected a reply to eventually come from HQ, but they considered the human world a backwater, and never seemed in any hurry to reply.

His report completed and forwarded, Triss debated how to spend the rest of the afternoon. He hadn't heard from Trav, as he had wisely left his communicator in the cache when heading to his precinct. While at a glance they looked like any other typical "smart phone" available on the local market, they had a few "extra" features that would have made an Apple technician blow his load. In particular, a direct link to the cache AI, and the link to HQ it provided.

He slid one into his jacket pocket, activated his camo unit, and began walking down the wet streets towards the precinct office.

Trav leaned back in his office chair, stretching to get the crick from his neck. His return to the office had been... awkward, to say the least. Having to field the repeated queries on his health from well wishers, questions on his absence and, more irritatingly, the ongoing ragging he received about "banging his head while on a raid", he answered all their grilling stoically, before finally being able to collapse in peace at his desk. The Chief was away from the precinct at the moment, fending off more reporters fishing for information on the warehouse fire so, for the present, Trav had some time to follow up his own leads. Tapping away at the laptop on his desk, he smiled momentarily at how primitive and limited it seemed, compared to the facilities within the cache. Hell, if they had that sort of processing power at their disposal, the police force could handle just about anything!

When the results of his searches began to appear, he spread the reports across his monitor, looking for anything suspicious that might cause him, and subsequently Triss and his operation, any difficulty. So far, the reports had been fairly dry, lacking anything that could be incriminating. Some mention of "odd" equipment came up now and again, but the fire had done a nice job of eliminating all evidence of their presence.

Suddenly a hoarse voice spoke over his shoulder, startling him.

"I see you heard about last night's excitement, John" it said, before his boss moved around the desk, taking the visitors chair opposite him. "Quite the event, wasn't it? We had every bloody fool reporter from here to Sydney breathing down our necks, waiting for us to slip them some juicy bit of gossip. Idiots!"

He stared at Trav for a few seconds, before leaning forward and continuing. "You look a damn sight better, lad. I need you back here, on this thing, in charge of the investigation. You think you're up to it?"

Trav considered his options. While physically he was back to full strength, the sudden request for his return jolted his loyalties. He knew his work with Triss was crucial, but being offered such a role was flattering. However, given his direct involvement with the "thing" in question, perhaps giving him the position made it too close for comfort. On the other hand, at least under his guiding hand, the investigation could be... redirected... away from matters they shouldn't be considering. Namely, the fact there had been an alien weapons factory operating incognito under their noses!

"Should be fine, Sir", he said, deciding to go with the lesser of evils. He cringed mentally, knowing what Triss might think of his choice, but if the alternate was the possible "outing" of their real mission, Trav was sure he would understand.

The Chief nodded, before turning the conversation away from the prior night's events.

"On other matters, I understand you were "assisted" by an anonymous member of the public, during that raid a few months ago? Guy is a hero, saving your sorry arse. What do we need to do about that?"

Trav's internal cringe reached a new level, as he considered what Triss might say about being brought in for questioning. While sure the Krynn had already "arranged" the appropriate documentation covering his "identity", he was sure it wasn't something that would meet with his approval.

"Umm, well, I'm not really sure how to get in touch with him at the moment, Sir. He seemed pretty keen on avoiding any recognition for his actions. He..."

But what he was about to say was interrupted by a voice at the entry to his office.

"Hey Trav!" a junior officer called out, passing the Chief an apologetic nod. "Sorry to barge in, but Travers has a visitor at the front desk. Want me to send him through?"

Trav looked at the constable in confusion, before turning back to the Chief, who raised an eyebrow at him "Back only a few hours', and already receiving visitors? Never seen you so popular, huh? Might as well bring him in here"

Trav chuckled, although he was still puzzled who had managed to track him down so soon after his return.

"Sure, Brian. Send him through."

The junior officer nodded, before slipping out and returning to the front desk. Within a minute, he returned, leading Trav's visitor through the maze of desks.

Oh fuck! Trav thought, stunned at the visitor being shown into his office. Standing at the door was Triss, cloaked in his camo, and looking decidedly uncomfortable at being there.

The Chief glanced at Trav, noting the shocked look on his face. Keeping his expression neutral, he reached forward, holding out a hand to the visitor in greeting. "Kerry WIlliams, Section Chief of the precinct."

Triss looked at the offered hand, hesitating for a brief moment, before returning the handshake. "Tristan Smith", he replied. "Just dropped in to see how Trav was going."

Releasing his hand, the Chief studied his face for a moment, before turning back to Travers. He clenched his fingers around his palm a few times, having absently taken note on the rough palms and light pinpricks against his skin he'd felt during the contact. Odd, he thought to himself. 30 Years in the force had left him with a deep understanding of the way the world operated, and here was a dilemma that intrigued him.

By this stage, Trav had managed to regain his composure, replying to his boss. "Umm, yeah, Chief. Speak of the devil. Tristan is the person who helped me get out in one piece that night"

Kerry's eyebrows raised further. Curiouser and curiouser he thought, not remembering seeing Trav this uneasy in all the years they'd worked together. More to the point, this nondescript, short, wiry individual seemed incapable of having dealt with the number of individuals the forensics team had reported. A report which had yet to make it past his desk. It had suggested that the assailants had been incapacitated utilising advanced combat techniques, outside the scope of the training he knew for certain that Trav had undertaken. So, if he hadn't taken them out, who had? Not this Tristan fellow, surely?

Thinking quickly, he decided to follow this through, himself, a bit further. Having known Trav for over 20 years, he had an unshakable trust in an officer whom he considered as much a friend as colleague, but his intuition was screaming "wierd"! For Trav to lose his self control in such a way spoke of things yet to be revealed, and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

"Well, seems we owe you for dragging our John's butt out of the firing line" he said, while considering where to direct the conversation. "How about we head to the pub, and it'll be my shout for lunch and a few drinks, and you can fill me in about it?"

Triss turned his eyes on Trav, who had continued to sit silently, watching the pair. Finally, Trav replied "Sounds like a plan, sir. Let me grab my stuff, and we'll head out"

"If you don't mind, I'll need to use the facilities before we go. Mind showing me where they are, John?" said Triss, following Trav from the room, watched by the intent eyes of the Chief.

Trav guided Triss down the hall, towards the toilets, before grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him into an empty office. "Jesus, what the fuck are you doing here?" he hissed. "What were you thinking?"

Triss shook himself from Trav's grip, before shrugging his fur back into shape. "Not my decision, mate. On the way here, I received a response from HQ stating they wanted me to follow up on your work here, ASAP. Believe me, I'd rather be a thousand miles from here right now!"

Trav sighed, before resting back against the wall. "You and me both!" he said. "I'd thought I'd covered for us quite well, but when you showed up like this, it'll raise his suspicions. I know the look he gave you. He KNOWS something is odd, and he won't let up on it till he finds out"

Triss reached out and gripped his friends shoulder firmly. "We'll deal with this, Trav. Don't worry".

Trav looked at him, and gave a wry grin, before gripping the Krynn's arm in return. "I know we will. That's what's worrying me!"

Triss laughed, before pulling Trav from the room. "Well, while you're here, I really do need to take a piss, "John"! Heh. Nice to hear you actually have a real first name, after all"

Trav smiled back, pointed down the hall towards the toilets, before beginning to walk towards the locker room to collect his coat. "You're on your own there, "Tristan"!" he said, and was greeted by a laugh retreating down the hall behind him.

* * *

**Continued in Chapter 6: Exposed to the light.**


	6. Chapter 6: Exposed in the light

**With darkness descending: The story of Triss Nighthunter.  
A furry fiction by Rocko Wallaby**

**DISCLAIMER:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Exposed in the light.**

They met up with Trav's boss in the lobby of the station, and headed towards the police parking lot containing Trav's car. Triss slipped into the back seat, while the burly chief claimed the front passengers spot. Trav pulled out of the lot, before turning towards the business district. Trav knew where he was going; it was almost taboo in the precinct to consider eating anywhere but Irish Murphy's pub, which sat on a corner block around a half mile away. The pub had been adopted by members of the force for over 50 years, with the original proprietor being an ex-police officer, who had opening the establishment after retiring. Over the years, while the patrons had changed and expanded, one thing had always remained the same; a room dedicated to the force, and those within it, located behind glazed timber doors at the buildings rear. It held a collection of memorabilia dedicated to those killed in the line of duty, which lined the walls and alcoves with tributes to those they had lost.

At this time of the day, it was likely to be empty, which suited Trav perfectly. After arriving, they headed out the back, into the dim solitude of the private bar.

The Chief rang for a bartender, and bought the first round of drinks, returning with his arms full to where the pair had slipped into a booth at the back of the bar. Handing out menu's, they spent several silent minutes contemplating their orders, before the attendant returned and made note of their lunch choices, before returning out the back of the room to the kitchen beyond.

Kevin took a sip of his scotch; not a usual drink of his this early during a day on duty, but the circumstances seemed to call for it; and stared at the close pair sitting together opposite him. His mind processed what he was seeing; this was no casual acquaintance. These two new each other, and knew each other well. When Triss looked at Trav in a manner clearly suggesting he take the lead in the conversation, Kevin knew something more had occurred the night he was injured than Trav had detailed in his report, that still sat on his desk back at the office.

Trav cleared his throat, before offering the toast that had become formality in the bar. "To friends lost, but never forgotten". The three touched glasses, before taking long swigs of their beers.

Kevin then eyed Triss for a moment, absently wiping the froth coating his upper lip onto his sleeve. "So, whats your story?"

Having had time to consider his options, and expecting such a question from the Chief, Triss replied "Well, been retired a few years now. Ex-RAAF, and special forces. Do security consultancy work, specialising in commercial and corporate espionage. Glorified IT work, really" he explained, before returning to his drink.

Trav kept his face down, sipping his drink slowly, and avoiding his bosses eyes. Kevin coughed, before continuing "So, work brought you down to those buildings two months ago? That late at night? Luck?" he asked.

Triss shook his head, sticking with the cover story he'd created after the incident. "Not likely. My firm had received a request for assistance following some disturbing reports of corporate vandalism in the area. Was passing on the way back from a movie, and thought I'd drop down and scope the place at night. Having the paperwork on file is one thing, but seeing the place in the flesh is always better."

How convenient, thought Kevin, before Triss continued.

"When I heard the disturbance, I followed the sound, and saw these guys about to off Trav here. So, had the pleasure of dealing with them in person."

"You always carry knives around with you?" asked Kevin.

"Always pays to be prepared", replied Triss, "especially in that sort of area. Not exactly premium real estate"

Having finished their first round, offered to buy a second, heading through the double doors into the front public bar to find the attendant.

While he was gone from the room, Kevin eyed Trav, who was still staring grimly at the table top. "So, you were pretty lucky, huh?" Kev asked him.

"Very" replied Trav shortly.

"I see you two have come to know each other since, too."

"Well, the guy saved my life. Least I could do was buy him a few drinks in thanks"

Hmm, sure he did, thought Kevin. Casual acquaintance, my arse!

Kevin went to continue, when the doors to the front bar opened, and Triss returned with a tray carrying their fresh drinks. Stepping into the room, the doors began to swing shut behind him, before the arm of a hooded figure stopped them, before it pushed through them silently. Trav glanced at the figure, thinking it surprising anyone else would be in the bar at that time of the day, but after taking in the shuffling walk and heavy cloak, his eyes became round, and he stared violently to his feet. Kevin, realising from his friends actions something was seriously wrong, glanced at the odd figure coming up behind Triss, before also rising, his hand unconsciously plunging into his pocket for his revolver.

The Marauder drew a long, shining blade from under its robe, lunging towards Triss's unprotected back. Half turned after seeing his partners reaction, the blade was driven into Triss's side, between his ribs, before the tip became lodged in his sternum.

The blow threw him forward, and he struck the wall hard, drinks scattered across the floor, as agony erupt from his side. Clutching the wound desperately, he tried to turn to face his attacker, but his legs buckled and he collapsed face down onto the floor. The Marauder straddled him, wrenching at the blade handle lodged in the Krynn's side to retrieve it for a second, fatal thrust. Suddenly, it lurched backwards as two shots rang out through the room. Hands clutching its chest, it lost it's grip on Triss's clothing, shredding the fabric with it's claws before dropping to his side.

Trav was running towards the pair, seeing the Marauder was still mobile enough to do further damage to his friend. The cowl covering it's scaled, scarred face had slipped back, and it glared balefully at them from slitted reptile eyes. It let out a gurgling laugh, before cursing at its victim in broken english.

"Krynn!" it hissed, "Last of your kind! We know you now! You cannot stop us! My brothers will eat the flesh, and drink the blood of these filthy humans! The final victory will be ours!"

It reached once more into its robes, searching for another weapon, when a final shot shattered it's forehead, throwing it back to lie motionless alongside the Krynn in a growing pool of dark, almost black blood.

Trav dropped to his friend's side, as Kevin lowered his pistol and gasped at the scene before him. In the struggle, Triss's camo unit had failed, revealing the alien's true form. Jesus Christ! Here was John, someone he'd known for two decades, attending the wolf man, while godzilla's evil midget cousin lay dead in a pool of blood beside them!

Trav tore the shirt from Triss's prone form and gasping at the blood cascading from the wound in his side. Kevin had approached from behind, gun still weakly held in his right hand, before spluttering "John! What are those things? What the hell is going on here?"

Trav turned to him, before shouting at him "Fucks sake, Kevin! I need your help here! Grab that table cloth, and pass it here!"

The Chief paused a moment, still paralyzed with indecision, before his training kicked in and he pocketed his gun and ripped the cloth from the table, spilling cutlery across the floor. Handing it to Trav, who pressed it tightly against the Krynn's side, it didn't take him long to realise it was insufficient to stem the flow of blood, and it was only a matter of time before the injury became fatal.

He laid a hand on Trav's shoulder. "John, this isn't going to work. If you want your friend to survive, he needs medical help, and needs it now!"

Trav looked down helplessly at Triss, before spinning back to his long time friend with desperation across his face. "Kevin, I've never given you any reason to not trust me, have I? I need you to trust me now! You're right. We need to get him help, and I can only do it with your assistance. Are you willing to trust me on this, Kev!"

The police chief looked down at his friend, who had cradled the still form of the alien. "You're asking a fucking lot, John!" he cursed, before helping his friend rise to his feet, and lift the Krynn into his arms. "You realise that we could be in a world of shit for this!"

Trav nodded at him thankfully, before jerking his head at the corpse. "That needs to come too. Sorry Kev"

Kevin cringed, before retrieving another table cloth which he wound tightly around the scaled assasin. Throwing the dead weight over a shoulder, he followed Trav as he rushed through the pub doors into the street. Onlookers gasped at their appearance, but they pushed roughly through the crowd to Trav's sedan, where they managed to get Triss sprawled across the back seat, while the Chief forced the dead Marauder into the space besides him. When the crowd began to close in on the vehicle, Kevin flashed his badge through the window of the car at the stunned onlookers, roaring at them to leave the area immediately! They did so in haste, as Trav gunned the vehicle into the traffic.

Looking across at Trav, Kevin took stock of the hard, cold lines on his face, before leaning back to gaze at the unconscious Triss.

"I assume there's a perfectly good explanation for this, John?" he asked, surprised at the sudden grim smile that flashed briefly on his friends face.

"I remember asking the exact same question two months ago, Kev. Unfortunately, yes, there is." was the reply, as the car sped towards the cache.

Returning his gaze out the windshield and taking stock of the passing neighbourhood, Kev wondered where they were heading. No medical facilities were located in this area, and the creature in the back obviously needed them desperately. While he knew the outcry that would occur if they brought him to a public hospital would be enormous, at least he might receive the attention he needed; especially if he had anything to say about it. He was about to ask the question, when Trav braked sharply, turning down a nondescript alley between two warehouses. Pulling the vehicle up near a metal covered doorway, Trav jumped from the car and threw open the back door, carefully pulling Triss from the vehicle. Kevin sprang to help, throwing the Krynn's other arm over his shoulder as Trav drew them through the cache entry and down to the medical bay.

* * *

An alarm sounded for the fifth time, siren blaring through the hallway.

"Security Breach! Alert! Unauthorised personnel detected. Lockdown procedures commencing!"

"Belay that!" Trav shouted, frantically stripping Triss down after placing him on the medical bay table. The flow of blood pumping from his wound had slowed dangerously, and he was becoming frantic for his friend's survival.

"Override priority alpha, code Trav One. Commence immediate medical assistance! Priority Alpha, you idiot machine!" He yelled at the AI, as the medical unit rushed to scan the prone form on the bench beneath. A large acrylic shield descended, before bathing the Krynn in green laser light which made a pass from his feet to his head.

The AI, alarms silenced, reported on the results of its examination.

"Subject: Triss Nighthunter. Species: Krynn. Status: Critical. Severe abdominal trauma from bladed instrument. Severe blood loss. Internal injuries. Immediate surgical repair required. Please vacate the medical unit immediately".

Kevin, who had been staring at the equipment with a somewhat glazed expression, was jolted out of his daze by Trav, who pushed him through the doorway. The room was sealed, and they could see several instruments descend onto the Krynn and commence their treatment.

Kevin shuddered, before Trav guided him down to the kitchen, seating him on a bench behind the steel dining table. After several minutes, a hot coffee was placed in his fingers, which curled around them instinctively. Trav sat heavily into the seat opposite him, sipping his own drink, and eyeing his friend apprehensively. The risk he'd taken was unavoidable. Triss needed the care only available in the cache, and the resultant security breach had he been taken to a local medical facility was unacceptable. He knew that United Systems HQ would be happier to see an agent dead, and the facility destroyed, than to have them fall into the hands of local authorities.

He also knew that the AI alert was more than simply a security warning. If he hadn't acknowledged it correctly, the AI would have armed the cache's self destruct, with the resultant explosion taking out the entire block around them.

Probably best if he didn't mention that detail to Kevin, he thought.

Trav cleared his throat nervously, while Kevin snapped his eyes to him. "I suppose you want an explanation now?"

Kevin choked on his coffee, spraying drink across the table before him, before wheezing out "Please!"

Trav smiled grimly to himself. Dejavu, he thought, before starting "Well, it began that night when I was saved by Triss..."

* * *

Several hours passed, while Trav explained his part in the operation to save the planet from the Marauder scourge. When he finally finished, he grabbed a beer from the chiller, motioning at Kevin, who shook his head in the negative. He popped the top, grabbed a seat, and waited for the resultant explosion from his boss.

Instead, Kevin rubbed his neck absently, before sighing "Sweet Zombie Jesus, Trav. If I hadn't seen this place, not to mention Triss and that scaly bastard, for myself, I'd have you locked up and the key thrown away. Problem is, I've known you too long NOT to believe this sci-fi fantasy you've told me. You're one of the best officers I've ever worked with, John. I KNOW you wouldn't fall for this shit, if you truly didn't believe it one hundred percent. Nor do I think you'd blindly chase around without confirming the facts first. So, you're telling me the planet is facing an alien threat, and you're now a member of the group sent by the "good" aliens to stop them. Shit, perhaps I'm the one needing a respite in the loony bin!"

Trav grinned briefly, before turning back to the wall console for an update on Triss's condition. He'd been stabilised, and repair work had commenced on his woulds, but the system still listed his condition as "serious". He sighed, churning inside at the condition of his friend. Get better, Triss, he thought.

Returning his gaze to the other human, he asked "So, what are you going to do about it?"

Kevin stared back, having made his decision some time earlier. "I'm going to do what I've always done for you, John. I'm going to cover your arse, and make sure these scaly bastards are cut from the equation. However, that fiasco that happened last night at the warehouse has left a bitter taste in my mouth. While it might have been inevitable, it also could have fucked up really quickly, and I don't want to see you in that bed where your friends laying anytime soon. I want to know everything, John. EVERYTHING! I'll turn a blind eye to this operation this time, because I know you too well to think your story is anything but the bare truth. I'll even give you the work flexibility to do what you need to do here. But no more bullshit, OK? I don't want to see a mess of civilian corpses, just to take out a group of these blood suckers and "save the planet". You keep me in the loop, and I'll keep your operation in the dark. Agreed?"

He reached across the table towards Trav, who returned the shake solemnly. "You do realise that Triss is going to have a lot of explaining to do, don't you? His boss isn't as understanding as mine apparently is" he smiled briefly

"I feel a world of pain for his suffering when doing so", Kevin smirked, releasing his hand and relaxing back in the chair. "Now, pass me a fucking drink, and you can show me around this place while we check on your friend in there!"

* * *

Triss woke, mind clouded from the effects of the drugs used to sedate him. He vaguely heard the bedside alarm that reported his condition to the AI, and tried taking stock of where he was, and how he made it back. He remembered the Marauder surprising him, and winced as he recalled the pain from the blade that speared through his guts. This scar will be a good one, he thought in morbid humour, reaching tentatively to his side and feeling the heavy bandages covering his flank. Shit, that's gonna hurt when the drugs wore off!

Hearing the door slide open, he turned his gaze on the individual entering, beginning to smile at Trav's beaming face, before he froze in shock as Kevin followed him into the room.

He looked at Trav in confusion "What did you do?" he whispered, eyeing Kevin in bewilderment.

Kevin walked to the side of the bed and leaned down over the furry alien, saying in a gruff voice "He saved your sorry fuzzy arse, wolf boy! Don't pop a nut! Your secret is safe, and you can thank Trav for saving your hide back there. If he hadn't done what he did, your carcass would be joining that scaly arsehole in the freezer downstairs or, even worse, be lying on a cold slab somewhere, dissected by homeland security! He's been beside himself over your condition. I've known him too long to think otherwise. So, lay back and get better, or I'll have to bitch slap some sense into the both of you!"

Triss, stunned at the response from the human, nodded weakly, before laying back into the bedding in exhaustion. Kevin gave him a clap of encouragement on the shoulder, grinning at the both of them, before retreating from the room back to the kitchen and letting Trav move to take his place at Triss's bedside.

Drawing a chair forward, he sat into it heavily and looked across at the exhausted Krynn. He had barely managed any sleep in the three days since Triss was stabbed, and his body was starting to falter from exhaustion. To see Triss awake was a Godsend. While Kevin had managed to persuade him to rest on occasion, when he had left the cache to return to the precinct to put their cover story into place, Trav's body had refused to relax, instead sending him pacing through the corridors of the cache, until fatigue forced him to cease and he slumped dejectedly in the comm room console. He had already made a tentative report to HQ, who's surprise at being contacted by the human was considerable, to say the least. After fielding numerous questions on his identity, he roared at them to shut the hell up, or they could kiss his arse! The grilling stopped, and he gave his detailed report, before being curtly congratulated for his quick thinking. Nothing was mentioned about his bringing Kevin to the cache, for which he was grateful. Trav was strung tight enough that it wouldn't have gone down well, and perhaps HQ knew that, as the topic was avoided

Triss looked at him, seeing the hurt beneath his eyes, and reached out to grip his arm. Trav raised reddened eyes to meet the golden ones, before reaching across and enveloping the Krynn in a careful hug, mindful of his wounds.

"I thought you were dying" he whispered into Triss's chest, while the Krynn gently stroked his hair.

"You know me. Hard to kill..." began Triss, before pausing as Trav raised his face, shocking the Krynn with the tears streaking down it.

Triss sighed, reaching out a hand and gently wiping the tears from his cheeks, before sliding his hand behind the humans neck and drawing him in close, pressing his lips lightly against those of the human. Trav opened his eyes, gazing into those of his friend, returning the kiss gently. It was several long moments before the pair broke the embrace, Trav leaning back into his chair in confusion and Triss sighing back into the pillows.

"What was that for?" whispered Trav, gazing into the Krynn's eyes for an explanation, almost fearful at hearing his reply.

"That was for everything" Triss replied quietly, before drawing the human close for another kiss, slipping across the mattress to allow Trav space to lie next to him.

Having made his coffee, Kevin returned to the medical bay in time to see the two embrace, cradled in each other's arms. Backing out of the room quietly, he slid the door shut behind him and returned to the kitchen to ponder the future. After all, it wasn't every day a lifelong friend finally found his soulmate.


End file.
